I know what you are probably thinking.
…Julie, you absolute sadist, why on earth would I want to cry?
It’s a fair question. I can explain.
I add books to my library hold list almost every day, and by the time they come available, I frequently don’t remember who recommended them or why I initially wanted to read them. Such was the case last week, when Marianne Cronin’s The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot showed up on my audiobook queue. I still have no idea what caused me to put this one on hold, but I decided to give it a try.
One review describes this book as a cross between John Green and JoJo Moyes, and that description that might already give you a clue what you’re in for. In my daughter’s words, “Mom, why are you doing this to yourself?” While I can see why a reviewer might point to those authors, I would actually describe it as a Scottish Fredrik Backman. If you’re a fan of that kind of book – the kind that, even though you know what’s coming in the end, you can’t help but laugh and fall in love with every character along the way – this book is for you.
Y’all.
When I tell you I cried at the end, I don’t mean a delicate, ladylike tear trickled down my cheek. I mean wracking, full-body, sobs. My husband heard me from the other room and came into the office to find me face down on the floor, weeping into the carpet. My younger daughter had a study partner over, and the poor, confused friend whispered, “Ummmm… should I, like, leave?” (My daughter told her, “Nah, don’t worry about it. My mom loves to cry over books.”)
My friends, I do. I really, really do.
I don’t mean the sad nonfiction books that Denise always recommends to me. She loves the heart breaking memoirs that make me dwell in grief and bemoan the state of the world for weeks afterward. That is no fun, because real life sadness is already too much.
But fictional sadness? I’m all in. That giant ‘Lenni and Margot’ sob sesh was so cathartic, I felt like I was filled with helium for the rest of the week. Sad fictional books are a perfect way to way to hack my emotions. I’m so tired of being constantly scared and sad and angry about the state of the world, but for the most part I have to hold those feelings inside in order to, you know, function. Give me a sad fictional book that I know is not real, but feels real, and let me have a full-body meltdown.
Hoo-boy, honey. That is a good time.
If you are also in the mood to release some emotional tension, may I suggest these tear-jerkers? Have tissues on hand, and please indulge yourself. Weep your beautiful heart out for a good long time – much louder and longer than is socially acceptable. It’s good for you.
All of this month’s books made me bawl like a baby, and therefore they have a permanent spot on my shelf. I also couldn’t narrow it down to five, so you get four bonus books this month. That’s nine weepy books for the price of five!
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Best Book Ever Podcast to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.